Ghost of a Chance
by Dixie Darlin
Summary: Racing champion Swizzle Malarkey finds himself in a life-or-death battle on the racetrack against a legendary racer's ghost. Will he come out on top and secure his rank as the best racer ever? Or does he only have a ghost of a chance? Two-shot. Human!AU
1. Chapter 1

_This is something I've wanted to write for a while, but am just now getting around to doing it. The plot is heavily borrowed from an episode of The Twilight Zone, of which I will reveal the name of in Part Two because I don't want you guys to cheat and watch the video on Youtube and spoil the ending ;)_

_ I used Swizzle because, the way I characterize him, he's a hotheaded daredevil that would jump at the chance to prove himself and also be unable to turn down a bet. And Terry Beaux is my Human!Turbo name, so don't use unless I grant you permission.  
_

* * *

**Ghost of a Chance**

Swizzle Malarkey leaned against the driver's side of his blue-and-green race car lazily, shielding his lighter from the slight wind as he raised it to the cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip ignited, and he flicked the lighter closed as he inhaled then exhaled a steady stream of smoke. It had been a good day, scoring another win earlier the Daytona International Speedway. The broadcasters announced that he was the youngest racer to have this many wins under his belt, a living prodigy if there ever was one in the sport of racing.

But that wasn't enough for the Swizz.

"I want to be the _best_," he'd say, "the best racer in the history of racing. I want to break _all_ the records."

Swizzle laid his head back to look at up the stars that were twinkling above him, the night air cool and crisp that September evening. Another puff of smoke escaped his lips as he gazed upwards, lost in thought.

"If only you weren't dead," the Swizz mumbled out loud.

The great Terry Beaux, who went by "Turbo" on and off the track by fans and foes alike, had been the reigning champion in the racing world for years, having broken every record possible. One day, an accident on the track involving himself and a newcomer, RB Rockford, killed the both of them instantly when they crashed into each other right before the finish line. Foul play was looked in to by police, but it was all deemed an accident at the investigation's end.

Swizzle sighed as he straightened up, flicking the cigarette down onto the asphalt of the Tri-Oval track he was parked on and stomped it with his boot. "Terry Beaux...I'm so _sick_ of hearing your name." He walked a few paces, his thumbs tucked loosely into his belt loops. "Not saying you weren't the best, once upon a time, but you're _dead_. Dead and buried. I'd give _anything_ to have a race against you, and prove once and for all that_ I'm_ the best there is, not you!"

"Is that a fact?"

Swizzle jumped and spun himself around in the direction of the mysterious voice; he bulged his light brown eyes out then rubbed at them before staring at the person standing a mere ten yards away from him.

Turbo himself stood casually under the moonlight with his hands in the pockets of his red-and-white racing suit, the helmet emblazoned with a large red T on either side. He was much shorter than Swizzle's six-foot-two height, and much scrawnier. His skin had an unhealthy gray tone to it, his teeth slightly yellowed from years of smoking and chewing tobacco. Turbo spat to the side out of habit, and cocked his head back to show off a smirk.

"Well, hotshot, you gonna say anything?" he asked the younger man as he rocked back on his heels. "I believe you are the one who called _me_."

Swizzle felt his blood leave his head, leaving him lightheaded. He could see, but couldn't believe. "B-but...but you're...you're..."

"Dead?" Turbo scoffed a laugh and shrugged his shoulders up, strolling slowly towards the Swizz. "Not really," he explained with a shake of his head. "When you're a legend, you never really die. You live on through people's memories, through them talking about you."

Swizzle covered his face with his hands and breathed heavily a few times before sliding his hands back down. "Are you saying that you came here because I started talking about you?"

"Because you said you'd give anything to race against me," Turbo corrected him, as he gazed sideways at Swizzle's car. "KC's Candy Emporium," he read aloud the name of the large sticker that bore Swizzle's sponsor on it. "I remember going there when I was alive. Always had a cute blonde girl working the counter that was always sucking on lollipops."

Swizzle clenched one of his tanned fists, his nails digging into his skin. "Did you come here to regurgitate memories to me? Because I'm not interested."

"Whoa, take it easy, hotshot," Turbo chuckled, holding his hands up in front of him defensively as he grinned his crooked smile at him. Now that he was closer, Swizz could see the slight yellow tinge in his eyes from all the years of drinking, the dark circles around his eyes, the gaunt expression on his face. Did he look _this_ bad when he was alive? "Remember what I said. I'm here because _you_ called for me."

"Well I certainly didn't mean to."

"Oh, I see." Turbo cracked his knuckles and stuck his hands back in his pockets, all humor gone from his voice. "You were just blowing hot air, trying to make big talk. But you're afraid, aren't ya? Afraid that if you raced me, you'd lose, and you wouldn't be as great as you claim to be. I see it all the time. Once the heat's on, you get out of the kitchen."

"Hey wait a minute!" Swizzle threw a finger in the shorter man's face, growing angrier by the second at his words. "You don't know me, Terry Beaux, you've never seen me race! I could beat you if I wanted in a second!"

"It's possible." The smile Turbo gave him was enough for Swizz to want to punch his lights out. "Might want to quit running your mouth and actually do it though."

"You smug snake," Swizzle growled at him, pointing ominously at his face. "I'll put a dent in that ego of yours. Right here, right now."

"As you wish."

Without a sound, Swizzle blinked as he looked past the dead racer and saw his old racer just a few yards away, red with a thick white line down the sides, and with his old sponsor's sticker on the side: TobiKomi Gaming Company.

"But how about we raise the stakes a bit?" Turbo inquired before Swizzle could ponder too much on how the formerly wrecked car had materialized there. "Something that's worth my trip here."

Swizz snorted and dug around in his back jeans pocket. "I don't have much cash, but-"

"Oh, come _on_, hotshot!" Turbo jeered at him, rolling his eyes largely. "What's money to a dead man?" He inched closer to the younger racer, which prompted Swizz to step back since he didn't exactly want Turbo too close to him. "Think, boy," Turbo whispered, a devilish glint in his eyes and a knowing smirk on his lips. "You said you'd give anything to race me...did you mean it?"

The Swizz studied him momentarily, trying to guess at what he meant by that. "What kind of stakes are we talking about here?"

Turbo's smile grew wider, and he leaned back away from him, spitting to the side again. "Life or death. You win, you live. But if you lose," he glanced upwards at him with those eerie yellowed eyes of his, "you die."

Swizzle let the words soak in, a chill running through him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said," Turbo stated calmly as he dug out a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. " I'm a little disappointed in you, Malarkey. You don't seem to have much faith in your abilities. Was it really 'all talk' earlier, when you claimed you could beat me?" He lit the cigarette and puffed it a few times. "You know this stuff will kill you some day, if an accident on the track won't."

"I have plenty of faith in my 'abilities'," Swizzle insisted angrily, ignoring the other man's last comment. "But I'm not insane enough to throw my life away over a bet!"

Turbo shrugged at that, blowing his smoke out as he sighed. "Well, guess that's it then. Fine by me if you want stay second-rate, it's no skin off my back. You know, racing isn't the most important thing in the world, hotshot, but remember this...I'm still the best."

The younger racer stared at the back of Turbo's head as he slowly walked off, humming a tune as he went. Swizzle had to refrain from punching his car, not sure what to do. On the one hand, he would never get this chance again. On the other, was he really crazy enough to bet his life? What if he lost?

What if he _won_?

He'd be the champion, the new legend. People would forget all about Terry Beaux...they'd all be talking about Swizzle Malarkey, the record breaker.

"Hey, wait a second!" he called out just as Turbo was about to reach his car.

The ghostly driver turned his head, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"You're wrong about me, I _do_ want to be the best!" Swizzle insisted firmly as he walked towards him, thinking to himself that this was crazy. "I put a lot of hours into this sport. I haven't dated since I started, I dream about going in circles, I race on the tracks after the race is already done."

"You're still talking and not acting," Turbo pointed out as he pulled his cigarette from his mouth and stomped it on the ground. "You want to be the best? Prove it. You'll never know how good you are unless you go up against someone better than you." He smirked lightly and folded his arms across his chest. "And I think we all know that I'm the only person for the job."

Swizzle grit his teeth, turning away sharply as he put his hand to his mouth. "Just shut up a second..."

"You'll never be great at anything in life by playing safe," he heard Turbo add gravely. "Trust someone who knows."

The younger man began to laugh at himself, shaking his head. "This is crazy...really crazy." He turned to face Turbo again, giving him a nod. "All right, I accept. Life or death."

Turbo smiled a little too widely for his taste. "Excellent," he purred. "Five laps around the track. First to complete wins. In case of a close call, the camera will decide who won."

"The camera?" Swizzle looked over at the finish line and saw where the equipment used to take the finishing snapshot was magically in working order, ready to shoot when needed. He rubbed at his face, deciding that he shouldn't question too much on the ways of the supernatural. The lights that surrounded the track suddenly turned on, their brightness blinding him momentarily.

"Enough talk, get moving," Turbo's voice called to him, making him snap out of the daze he was in.

Swizzle turned his head and blinked a few times when he saw that the man had soundlessly, and with unnatural speediness, entered his car already, his hands on the steering wheel. The Swizz felt a chill run through him, telling himself to keep on his toes and to watch his back with the ghost racer in his midst.

* * *

The two cars' engines roared like angry beasts being kept on a leash, their respective drivers tentatively keeping their foot on the brake. Swizzle forced his breath out, clenching his fingers around the steering wheel, his heart palpitating wildly.

_"Not too late to call it off,"_ Turbo told him via the two-way radio that each had in their car. There was no hint of sarcasm or teasing in his voice; no, he sounded almost as if he were _concerned_ about the Swizz.

No...no, he wasn't. He was trying to manipulate him into calling this bet off. "Fat chance," Swizzle snorted back at him. "Why are you telling me that? Are _you_ afraid I might actually beat your record? That you won't be the best anymore?"

It took a few seconds for the other man to respond. _"Wouldn't be fair of me to gamble with another man's life without making double sure that he's willing to put it on the line, now would it?"_

Swizzle swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the lump in his stomach. "On the count of three," he said, "One..." He felt his heart leap into his throat when he heard Turbo's gun engine rev up. "Two..." He licked his lips, taking a moment to wipe his brow before putting the visor down on his helmet. "Three."

The two shot off down the track, side by side. The race for Swizzle's life had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

_guest: I got it from the Wreck It Ralph wiki site. That's where I get a lot of my pictures from ;)  
_

* * *

**Ghost of a Chance**

Swizzle glided into turn two with gritted teeth, his hands gripping the wheel so hard that if he hadn't been wearing gloves, he'd have seen his knuckles turn white. Turbo was just beside him to his left, trailing just a hair.

Five laps. Five laps, that's all he had to do. Simple enough. It would be like stealing candy from a baby.

_"So what you made you decide to race, eh?"_

Swizzle curled his lip at Turbo's voice coming in over the radio. "You gonna talk to me the entire time? Trying to distract me?"

_"It was just a question, hotshot."_ The two of them hit the back stretch of the track, cruising easily. _"Nothing wrong with a little friendly conversation."_

Young Malarkey sighed, keeping his eyes on the track. "Friendly, my ass," he whispered to himself. "All my life I wanted to be good at something," he began as memories of his past came flooding into the front part of his mind. "All the other kids, they had basketball, baseball, track, the list goes on. I would try so hard to be like those other kids, but I'd fail. I thought I was gonna be a nobody all my life."

Turn three resulted in Turbo getting the lead, Swizzle able to see the red-and-white car's tire from outside his window. He shut up talking and grimaced angrily, his eyes narrowing at the track as he struggled to get back his lead.

_"But you weren't going to let your previous failures stop you,"_ Turbo continued for him, obviously intent on keeping the conversation going.

Swizzle licked his lips, wishing he'd brought a bottle of water with him. "What do _you_ care?"

The laugh he heard was surprisingly pleasant; he wasn't sure if he should be creeped out or not. _"You always this abrasive? Lighten up already. Not everybody has an ulterior motive when they try to talk to you."_

"Bah."

Swizzle found the high groove and grinned as he passed Turbo up on turn four, taking the lead again. His smile faded when he felt the car rattle, having caught some of the dirty air that Turbo's car put out. "No, not now!" he growled at himself as he forced the car back into his control. He felt sweat drip off of his brow, and he quickly dabbed at his eyes to keep the sweat from getting into them.

_"Don't get so jumpy to get ahead so fast,_" Turbo told him once they made it back into the front stretch to begin lap two. _"Ever hear that old Aesop tale? About the tortoise and hare?"_

"Yeah, yeah, slow and steady. But I'm not going to be stupid and pull off the track to take a nap."

He earned a laugh from the other man. _"I like you, Malarkey. I really do."_

Swizzle wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He wrinkled his nose, deciding not to entertain the man, ghost, whatever he was with any more talk. He was here to race for his life, not make friends with a dead guy.

The silence lasted until they got back around to the back stretch of lap two. Swizzle having fallen behind again. He couldn't stop thinking about how hard he'd proved to himself and to others throughout his life that he was a somebody, that he wasn't a joke. He worked hard to get where he was today, and he was not about to let the dead Terry Beaux take it away from him in one race.

_"You never did finish your story."_

Swizzle blew his breath out, his mood souring just hearing Turbo's voice. "You want to hear it so bad? Buy the autobiography I'll be writing after I beat you."

Turbo laughed as he went around turn three, and this time Swizzle didn't rush to go into the high groove this time. Didn't want to make the same mistake twice. That was dumb mistake, a rookie mistake anyway. He'd should have known better the first time.

_"I'd love to, kid, but that's kinda hard for dead guys to do. How about you just tell me? I promise I won't spoil it for anyone."_

Swizzle had a snort a laugh at that one. "Okay fine. Long story short, some guy at my dad's garage entered a race that had one of those open-topped cars. I went to watch him, and thought it was cool. I had my permit at the time, but the guy let me drive around a bit in it afterwards. I was hooked after that. I told myself this was something I'd be good at, so I worked at it. I beat Kyle Busch's record of being the youngest racer with the most wins. I got _one more_ than he does, and that's seventeen. Ha!" He smiled at the memory of that particular win. "And now here I am, a champ."

_"That is still to be decided, hotshot. You haven't beaten me yet."_

"That'll change soon enough," he muttered.

_"You know, it's not all that easy being a legend. It's a real job, being the person that people look up to in order to better themselves, the person that people strive to be."_

Swizzle's eyes rolled, and he pushed forward once they neared the front stretch to gain back first place in time to start lap three. "Oh boohoo, poor Terry Beaux, he's the greatest and he's whining about it."

_"I'm just telling ya that the grass ain't always greener on the other side."_

"Says the guy who's been eating that grass for years."

Silence on the other end told him that he had won _that_ minor debate. Swizzle smirked, turning gently into the first turn. Next thing he knew, he felt a nudge coming from behind him, the car shifting forward. He sat up straighter in his seat and demanded the car follow his commands, forcing it to _not_ go flying into the wall. Once he got it back under control, he glared daggers at the back of Turbo's car, as the other man had stolen first place from him.

"What the hell?!" he shouted as he sped after him, sweat dripping from him from what felt like every pore on his body. The hair on the back of his neck was still raised from his fright. "You trying to kill me?"

_"It was just a small bump, don't get so excited,_" was the almost bored reply. "_You fly into a fit every time someone touches you?"_

"Yeah if that touch manages to almost kill me! You know what, I think you're trying to make me lose, and that isn't fair, buster!"

_"You take this stuff too seriously." _He sounded so nonchalant that Swizz wished he could somehow telekinetically bash the man's face._ "Part of me actually wants you to win, believe it or not. But there's more to life than this track, Malarkey. I used to go on cruises, hang at the beach, party it up with the boys. What do you do for fun? Drive around in circles in your free time?"_

"Shut. Up." Swizz's hands were hurting from having such a tight grip on the wheel. "And let's talk about you for a change, Terry. Did you kill Rockford all those years ago in that wreck? Or was it an accident?"

Silence.

Swizzle was about to ask if Turbo had heard, but he got a reply at the end of the back stretch. _"A little bit of both, I guess?"_ He sounded surprisingly remorseful, something the Swizz hadn't expected. _"I was being cocky, thinking I had the win in the bag. Rockford was in the way. We went back and forth taking first place, kinda like what we're doing now, hotshot. I nudged him too hard, thinking it wouldn't hurt the guy. I did it harder than I meant to though, and we both went crashing into the wall..."_

His voice trailed off, then Swizzle heard light static that accompanied a sigh. _"Rockford never had a chance to prove it to anyone that he had what it took. You're lucky, kid, you made it far. You oughta be proud of what ya have."  
_

"If you're trying to get me to change my mind about this race, you're failing."

_"I'm just talking, Malarkey. And apparently I'm talking to myself since you keep missing the point."_

Swizz rolled his eyes for what felt like the twentieth time that night. "So if you feel so bad about accidentally killing Rockford, why'd you just pull that same stunt on me?"

_"Just testing your skill, hotshot. That's what the whole race is about, right? Seeing how great you are?"_

Turn four, lap three. Swizzle drifted into first in time for the next lap. He could do this, just two more laps, and he'd be the new legendary champion.

"Why did you say you kinda wanted me to win earlier?" he found himself asking.

_"Oh, I don't know. Maybe part of me wants to see a hotshot like you get rewarded for all his hard work."_

Swizz scoffed. "Yeah right. If you wanted me to win, you'd slack off. You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't still have the desire to be the best to everyone. Once you get the gold, nothing else comes close to being as good, right?"

_"I suppose you're right about that. Being on top is fantastic, don't get me wrong. But once you get on top, you got to stay on top. And like I keep saying, there's more to life than-"_

"More to life than racing, blah blah, I heard you the first hundred times. You don't become the best by sitting around and doing nothing about it, you know."

There was a nice few moments of radio silence, for which Swizzle was grateful. At the same time, having that silence was unnerving; what was Turbo thinking in that head of his? What was going through his mind? Swizz suddenly found himself thinking that it was better for Turbo to preoccupy himself with talking than it was for him to think. Who knew what crazy things he was coming up with in that car of his?

Turn two, lap four. Swizzle really wished he had some water. It was hot in the car's cab, and the stress of his life being on the line was making him a tad claustrophobic. Gotta keep it together, keep cool. Don't screw up now that the race is more than halfway over.

Turbo's car started to fishtail, and Swizzle timed it to where he could get around him without getting hit. He checked his rearview mirror afterwards and saw that the ghost racer had recovered.

_"That could've ended poorly."_

"What difference does it make if _you_ wreck?" Swizzle snapped at him as he continued taking the lead. "You're already dead. All that would've happened is me being able to win easier."

_"What's the fun in an easy win? Would hardly have proved you were the best if I'd wrecked out."  
_

Swizzle was really getting tired of him always having something smart to say as a response.

_"It's still not too late to back out,"_ Turbo told him as he caught back up to him in time for the fifth lap to start. _"I'll gladly let you out of the deal; no repercussions."_

The younger racer laughed. "You're kidding, right? After all this? No way am I throwing this chance away."

_"Sorry, I'm obligated to remind you."_

Obligated? What did _that_ mean?

_"I've only been doing my job since I died,"_ Turbo kept on talking._ "I'm the guy that all the other racers aspire to be. My records are the ones that provide a challenge to guys like you. You sure you're ready to take that job on if you win?"_

"_When_ I win," Swizzle corrected him. "And I'm not going to let anyone take that title from me. Ever."

_"I thought the same thing myself back in the day. But, Malarkey, once you become the best, that's it. End of the line. No more challenges, no more-"_

"I don't _need_ a challenge."

_"Everybody needs a challenge."_

Turn two, lap five.

_"Kid, I wasn't joking when I said I liked you. You got spirit. I really hate that you waste your life away on the damn track."_

Swizzle painfully clenched his teeth as he raced alongside his ghostly rival, nose-to-nose. "What are you, my dad? Give me a break. The track is my life. It's all that I want."

Approaching turn three, lap five. Almost there. He could almost taste the victory now.

_"I really hope you mean that, hotshot."_

Without warning, Turbo gunned his engine, hitting the high groove of the track and speeding off in front of Swizzle. Young Malarkey gawked at him, his heart dropping. No...no, he couldn't steal the win from him! Not when he was so close!

No. He refused to die, not without being the best!

_"No cheating and going over the double yellow line to pass me,"_ Turbo told him, referring to painted line close to apron. _"Rules of the track are in place."_

"I don't _need_ to cheat to beat you!"

Swizzle bit his cheek so hard that he bled, the metal-tasting liquid trickling in his mouth, but he paid it no mind. He rode behind his opponent's car, riding in the draft. He tried a couple times during the turn to get past him, but Turbo kept blocking him. Bastard, who did he think he was? All that talk about wanting him to win, was that all a bunch of baloney?

Finally, at the last turn, Turbo's car drifted to where Swizzle knew was the best spot in the track to get a boost of momentum. At the same time, this would allow Swizzle a chance to have a pass. Swizzle felt his heart race. This was it, now or never. He used the draft to slingshot his way around Turbo's car. If he weren't going at such a dangerous speed, he'd look over at the ghost and give him a shit-eating grin, complete with a flip of the bird.

Coming out of turn four, lap five now.

He was almost there.

Terry Beaux was gonna eat asphalt for the rest of his afterlife.

A little further now, almost...

He crossed the finish line.

The photo snapped.

Swizzle threw his head back and howled wildly, making donuts in his car to celebrate his win. He finally stopped the car and killed the engine, crawling out through the window and laughing like a loon. "I did it! I did it! I'm the best! I'm the best at something, I did it, I did it!"

In the meanwhile, Turbo's car had crossed the line as well, and he too crawled out of the car to walk over to him.

"You see that?!" Swizzle triumphantly asked, once he quit jumping around happily. "I beat you, you son of a bitch!"

Turbo had a small smile on his face, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he dug around for his cigarettes and lighter. "I _did_ see. Thank you."

Swizzle's laughter died down into a chuckle, and then he wasn't laughing at all. He panted for air as he watched his rival light up a smoke and inhale it.

"Thanks?" he parroted in confusion. "What do you mean thanks? I'm going to live, right?"

"Well of course, those were stakes."

"Then what are you so happy about? You _lost!_"

"You'll find out one day," Terry Beaux grinned at him, a wisp of smoke rising into the night air.

Swizzle rolled his eyes, waving him off dismissively. "Whatever, you're just a sore loser and trying to hide it."

The other man chuckled, which honestly worried Swizz a good deal. "Hotshot, you got a lot to learn. I wish you the best, kid."

Swizzle found himself growing furious at Turbo's casual behavior after losing. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he pissed at having his title stolen? Does being dead affect your mentality?

"Save your wishes, chump," he sneered at him as he jogged over to where the camera was so he could look at his own victory shot. "I beat you, and now I'm the best racer there ever was and ever will be."

He turned around to continue talking to him, but he startled back when he realized that there was no one to talk to anymore. Both Turbo and his car were gone. Vanished into thin air. As if they had never been there...

"Oh come on..." Swizzle muttered out loud, walking back out onto the track in a daze. He kept looking at the picture of himself crossing the finish line, the wild smile of victory settling on his lips. "Fine, leave then! I don't need you around. Nobody does!"

He plopped down onto the track, collapsing on his back and holding his picture up to his eyes. "I'm the new legend around here! People will be chanting _my_ name! Swizzle Malarkey! You hear me! Swizzle Marlarkey!"

* * *

**Twenty-Seven Years Later**

Swizzle Malarkey finally understood why Terry Beaux had partially wanted him to win in that race so many years ago.

He had been right; it _did_ feel good being the best. His pride swelled every time he thought about how he was the guy that everybody else struggled to live up to.

However, what Swizzle hadn't realized that in being the best, he had to keep proving it over and over again, for all of eternity...until someone finally beat him.

And so he wandered in limbo after his death, waiting for some hotshot racer like he once had been to challenge him to a race. And even then, that person had to beat him fair and square, so he or she could take his place...and so Swizzle Malarkey could finally move on to the true afterlife.

Being the best was both a blessing and a curse.

_**~ The End ~**_

* * *

_If you guys want the original story that heavily inspired this fic, go watch The Twilight Zone episode entitled "A Game of Pool" on Youtube. Same scenario, only it's a game of billiards/pool instead of racing. Great stuff. The whole show's great actually, check it out if you've never tried it._

_I apologize for any jacking up of racing terminology and for the suck factor of racing action, that is SO not my forte lol. Shout out to Captain Alaska, who always helps me out with anything racing-related, even though he definitely writes it better! :)_


End file.
